


Make This House a Home

by NaoNazo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Found Family, Gen, M/M, foster family AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaoNazo/pseuds/NaoNazo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a group of three siblings—five, really, but the youngest two got adopted already. Thing is, these three are really tight and they’d never stay together in the system,” Myriel explained. “You’re their only hope of growing up together.”</p><p> </p><p>Valjean sighed. Myriel knew exactly which buttons to press to get him to agree. “…How old are they?” He asked wearily. Cosette had begun a silent victory dance in the kitchen and he was hard-pressed not to chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“The oldest girl is in Cosette’s year, 15. Then there’s a younger sister, 13, and a ten-year old boy.” Valjean pursed his lips. With two teens, they did have a low chance of being adopted together in the normal route of things.</p><p> </p><p>“I can take them for a trial period of a month or two,” he hedged, ignoring the puppy eyes Cosette directed his way. “If they fit and they like it here... we'll see.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jean Valjean, respected member of the community and head of the county high school mentoring program, was helping his adopted daughter put away groceries when the call came in.

Cosette scampered into the other room, ponytail swishing behind her. She bounded back in a few seconds later crying, “Papa, it’s for you!”

He accepted the phone with a smile and gestured for her to keep emptying their reusable shopping bags into the fridge. “Hello, this is Jean Valjean speaking,” he said into the speaker.

“Jean!” It was M. Myriel, the social worker. He had helped Valjean with the adoption process after Fantine lost custody. “You’re still licensed as a foster parent, yes?” 

He sat down at the table, fairly sure he wouldn’t like the news that came next. “Yes… What of it?”

“Forgive my frankness, but your house has extra bedrooms, does it not,” Myriel pressed. 

“Yes, yes, two guest bedrooms and a bathroom. Are you recommending a placement?” He asked plainly. At the counter, Cosette turned to him with an overjoyed expression. She had always dreamed of having siblings, but he hadn’t anticipated giving them to her this soon.

“There’s a group of three siblings—five, really, but the youngest two got adopted already. Thing is, these three are really tight and they’d never stay together in the system,” Myriel explained. “You’re their only hope of growing up together.”

Valjean sighed. Myriel knew exactly which buttons to press to get him to agree. “…How old are they?” He asked wearily. Cosette had begun a silent victory dance in the kitchen and he was hard-pressed not to chuckle.

“The oldest girl is in Cosette’s year, 15. Then there’s a younger sister, 13, and a ten-year old boy.” Valjean pursed his lips. With two teens, they did have a low chance of being adopted together in the normal route of things.

“I can take them for a trial period of a month or two,” he hedged, ignoring the puppy eyes Cosette directed his way. “If they fit and they like it here... we'll see.”

With profuse thanks and a promise to bring their new guests the following morning, Myriel hung up. Valjean met his daughter’s eyes with a rueful smile.

“It looks like we need to clean up the guest rooms a bit,” he stated.

Cosette’s shriek of joy could be heard two houses away.

\----------------------------  
The pudgy social worker with the huge grin was back. Gavroche called him Mr. Claus to his face, saying he looked like a Mall Santa. The social worker had just winked a sparkling eye and tried out a “Ho! Ho! Ho!” that had her brother snorting with laughter and her sister covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. Gavroche and Azelma might have warmed up to him already, but Eponine kept a wary eye on him. She’d learned her lesson about trusting people who seemed harmless.

He’d promised them he’d try his best to keep them together, but she knew how low their chances were. Her two youngest brothers, the babies, were already gone. She’d never get to see them outgrow their squishy baby faces. But maybe they were better off like that, forgetting everything about their previous family. It was too late for Azelma, Gav and her. They had their parents to thank for that. But they also all had emails and phones and the savvy to get new ones if needed. She’d told ‘Zelma and Gav her plans to run away and get an apartment for the three of them once she looked old enough, so they had that to fall back on. They just had to get through this farce of government-mandated charity first.

Azelma was asking the social worker questions about the house they were going to, trying to figure out how many people were in it. After hearing that there was a man and a girl, Eponine scowled and tuned out again, glaring at the door. It had been too much to hope that their caretakers would be female, like in the group house they’d stayed in the past two nights. Not that she thought a woman would be nicer than a man, it was just easier to defend her siblings against someone without the added weight and height advantage.

Mr. “Claus” had also promised, with a face like he was giving them a huge gift, that they’d be able to transfer all their school credits to the new K-9 school he was enrolling them in. Eponine didn’t bother telling him she hadn’t been to school in half a year—he had their paperwork, he knew already. She’d just have to catch up on her own. Maybe this new foster family would at least get her some textbooks so she wouldn’t have to check them out from the library. Maybe if she checked them out of the library anyway, she could angle for getting textbooks AND notebooks for her brother and sister.

Reminded, she cut in, “Can we get library cards?” when the social worker paused for breath. She didn’t bother trying to sound polite.

He blinked at her. “Of course! I’m sure Mr. Valjean will take you sometime this weekend,” he recovered, smile undamaged. She nodded curtly and turned her gaze back to the door, back tense and straight against the wall. Azelma was sitting between their two duffel bags and Gavroche was playing a Gameboy he’d nicked from a backpack at their old school, so it fell to her to watch the room’s entries and exits. If she tensed or gave the signal, they’d be up and ready to run without fail, but during times of low threat, she was their appointed sentry.

The social worker glanced at his watch and clapped his hands lightly, kindly ignoring how all three flinched in response. “It's just about time to go, how about you grab your bags and say thank you to the head of house.”

Eponine raised an eyebrow at ‘Zelma and Gav, reaching down to sling both bags over her shoulder. The added weight against her legs made the switchblade she carried dig into her thigh, but she was used to that. It was the most useful weapon she owned, not counting the brass knuckles she’d stolen from one of her father’s business associates. The man had been too drunk to notice her hand slipping into his pocket, and for all his faults her father would never interrupt a theft in progress.

Azelma hugged the head of house goodbye while Gav grinned at her and called her “Ma’am”. Eponine waited for the woman’s eyes to meet hers before giving a solemn nod—the woman had been kinder than she’d needed to be, after all.

They piled into the car, and after Eponine had checked that her siblings wore their seatbelts correctly (and taken the Gameboy out of Gav’s hands so he would untangle his strap) they were on the road. 

The social worker listened to radio news shows in the car, because of course he did. Eponine looked out the window to keep from rolling her eyes.

Azelma stared out the window on her other side, thinking what their new house might be like. She hoped they had a dog, one of those tiny fluff balls she’d seen at the mall. Maybe the girl would have makeup she could try on.

Gav stared down at his Gameboy. He could probably get new batteries at the house, people didn’t tend to notice when small things like batteries went missing. He’d had to let the game die a couple days ago, and he’d played cards with the other boys there to relieve his boredom. But there probably wouldn’t be other boys at the house, and their new watchers wouldn’t approve of the way he played cards anyway. Batteries it was. 

Eponine didn’t hope anything of their new foster house. If it had doors that could close and lock, she could deal.


	2. Chapter 2

 

After a morning spent in a tizzy of vacuuming, making beds and picking up the house, Cosette parked herself in front of the window with a book, sneaking looks up at every car that passed by. There was something puppy-like about the eager way she waited for their new foster children, Valjean thought. He hid the sadness it caused him to think of how lonely she must be. It was hard to deny that their house was too big for just the two of them, but he had hoped that Fantine might be allowed to move in after she was released. As it was, the guest rooms had never housed another living soul, and he and Cosette hardly used the living room or the family room, preferring to eat together in the kitchen and then retire to their separate rooms to entertain themselves. He mourned in advance for the peace and quiet of that daily life, sure to be disrupted. With more teenagers in the house, surely they would want parties and loud music and trips to the mall.

 

Without quite realizing it, Valjean had stationed himself at the window next to Cosette, coffee in hand. He finally gave in to the urge to grab the other available seat, and side-by-side the two waited for three strangers to move into their lives.

 

M. Myriel had promised to arrive before noon, and it was 11:45 on the dot when his distinctive grey Subaru pulled into their driveway. Cosette jumped out of her seat and ran to the door, flinging it open. Valjean set his empty mug on the table and followed, watching her run to the car with an indulgent smile on his lips. From his vantage point, he could only see the face of one of the girls sitting in the back, and something about the set frown on her face made him think she was the eldest. Thirteen-year-olds didn’t look so world-weary.

 

As Cosette bounced excitedly on tiptoe, the three foster kids unfolded themselves from the backseat. The eldest went immediately to the trunk to gather their things, while the younger two stretched and blinked sleepily. Valjean wracked his memory to see if ten-year-olds were supposed to take naps. The youngest was tiny, a sharp-faced little boy with curly hair just brushing his collar and a tight hold on his Gameboy. The middle girl was sweet-faced, already smiling and introducing herself to Cosette. Behind her, the eldest hefted two ratty duffel bags, impatiently blowing mussed dark bangs out of her eyes.

 

Myriel walked up to Valjean and shook his hand warmly, expressing his gratitude. “I’ll be by in a week to check up on things, call me before that if you have any problems,” he said with a wink. Valjean looked over the man’s shoulder to where the oldest girl was staring fixedly in his direction, brows drawn in a scowl.

 

“We’ll be in touch,” he said, not quite a promise. The other man laughed and said his goodbyes, high-fiving the little boy on his way. Valjean, left alone with more children than he had ever planned to be responsible for, clasped his hands behind his back and asked, “Tour or lunch first?”

 

Cosette smiled at them all indiscriminately, seeming infinitely pleased with the world and the options it offered her. The middle girl and the youngest boy both glanced to their older sibling, who shrugged. Valjean tried again.

 

“If you aren’t hungry right now, maybe you’d like the tour first?” he asked.

 

“Or I can give the tour while Papa cooks,” Cosette offered. She turned to the oldest girl. “And I can help carry those in, if you like?”

 

The girl eyed her. “They’re not heavy.” Valjean raised an eyebrow at her voice. She sounded like a caricature of a lounge singer, back when their voices were rough whiskey and cigar smoke. Judging by her closed expression and the way her eyes flicked to his and Cosette’s faces, she was self-conscious about it.

 

Cosette smiled back, unfazed. “Okay! And while we’re at it, we should do names!”

 

Deferring to his daughter’s enthusiasm, Valjean led the way into the house and gathered that the boy was Gavroche, and the middle girl was Azelma. The eldest girl had bit her lip before mumbling something fast that sounded like ‘pony’ but Cosette apologized for not listening well enough until she finally rasped, “It’s Eponine, all right?”

 

Cosette clapped her hands excitedly. “It’s like my name, Euphrasie!” She smiled self-deprecatingly, “Only I go by Cosette mostly.”

 

“That’s stupid,” said Gavroche bluntly. Eponine reached out and slugged him in the shoulder. “Ow! I mean, sorry,” he corrected, rubbing his arm.

 

The middle girl—Azelma—giggled. Valjean swallowed a sigh and smiled at them all. “My name is Jean Valjean, you can call me Mr. Valjean or Jean if you prefer.” From the faces the kids pulled at that suggestion, he was pretty sure most of them would not try to call him by his first name. “Now, Cosette, if you want to show them to their rooms?”

 

She laughed again and reached out to grab Eponine’s arm and pull her to the other room. When Eponine instinctively pulled away, Cosette’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry! I just meant to…”

 

“It’s fine,” Eponine muttered. Her voice, already low and hoarse, roughened further with what Valjean was pretty sure was embarrassment at her flinch. Azelma and Gavroche pushed past their sister as if nothing had happened and asked Cosette to show them the way.

 

“Will I actually have my own room?” Gavroche’s voice trailed off as they neared the stairs. Valjean turned away from the door the kids had passed through and entered the kitchen to start some macaroni and cheese. He figured as a first meal, he might as well feed them something simple and comforting.

 ------------------------------------------------ 

Eponine could have hugged Gavroche for breaking the tension when Cosette reached for her. Azelma had stepped on her foot on the way, so she could take or leave _her_ help. But her little brother was in cheerful chatter mode, which allowed her to let loose the breath she’d been holding and trail behind them as they made their way up the stairs.

 

When they turned into the lane of their new house, Azelma had whispered, “It’s like white suburban purgatory.” Eponine couldn’t help but agree. The houses were straight, two-storied monuments to success, with trimmed green lawns that probably had sprinklers set for 2 am to save water. She expected to see soccer moms shepherding their two and a half children to school any second now. Hell, if the school they expected her and her sibs to attend was a private school, they were out.

 

Eponine refused to wear a prissy, expensive school uniform. She’d gone through too much shit to make sure she and her siblings had sturdy, non-repulsive clothes to wear to let them be stuffed into hideous plaid now.

 

She hefted the duffel bags higher on her shoulders and sighed as they came to the second floor. Gavroche ran ahead, checking out the rooms while Azelma took the time to ask Cosette questions.

 

The other girl was too blond and happy to be real. Maybe she was on the good meds, the ones that kept your brain happy and shit. Montparnasse had told her he could hook her up with some if she wanted, but only brain-dead idiots took the stuff Montparnasse dealt. She’d sent him off with a few more bruises than he came with, to show she was serious. If Cosette was really on anything, Eponine would keep Az and Gav away from her. They’d had enough bad influences to last a lifetime. She didn’t want them to like this one just because she had bouncy hair and smiled a lot.

 

Cosette turned to her as they neared the end of the second-floor hall, an apologetic look in her eyes. “We didn’t have time to get a second bed for this room, so you or Azelma will have to sleep on the air mattress,” she said.

 

Eponine snorted. “Bags I bed,” she said. Azelma rolled her eyes and pulled their duffel from Eponine’s shoulder, tossing it into the room. Gavroche poked his head out from the room directly across from them, making grabby hands for his smaller bag.

 

“Wait, he seriously gets his own room?” Eponine said, raising an eyebrow. Cosette nodded enthusiastically.

 

“Yep! And mine is just on the other end, if you need anything.” She pointed to a door on the other side. From here, Eponine could just make out a pink hand-written sign that said, “Cosette!”

 

Gavroche gave up on gesturing and came up to pull his bag away from her. She held on just long enough to give him a warning look. “If you use your room as an excuse to stay up late on school nights…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I will personally pluck out your eyes and flush them down the toilet.”

 

Gavroche rolled his eyes ostentatiously at her but quailed when she leaned forward menacingly. “Fine, MOM,” he snarled before ducking back into his room.

 

She turned away, duty done. Azelma had taken advantage of her distraction to starfish over the only bed in their room, leaving her with the air mattress. Since this was what she’d expected, she just smacked her sister’s leg sharply and stole one of the pillows for her wobbly plastic-lined bed. Cosette peeked her head in the doorway.

 

“Um… do you guys want to come down for lunch, then?”

 

Gavroche was thundering down the stairs, crying “FOOD!” before she’d finished her sentence. Azelma rolled her way off the bed with a groan and skirted carefully around her big sister like she feared being hit again. Left alone with Cosette, Eponine swallowed her reluctance and turned away from the air bed with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

She watched the blond ponytail sway hypnotically all the way down the stairs.

 

“Jesus, like a fucking pendulum,” she muttered. Cosette turned to her, brushing bangs out of her sky-blue eyes.

 

“Did you say something?” she asked. Eponine frowned.

 

“No.”

 

With a slight wrinkle between her perfectly tweezed brows, Cosette turned away again. “Okay… Sorry.”

 

Eponine didn’t speak again as they caught up to Gavroche and Azelma in the kitchen. She was unsurprised that her siblings had managed to find the room—the smell of cooked cheese was strongest in this direction. She barely suppressed a laugh when she caught sight of the empty box on the kitchen counter—by pure coincidence, Mr. Valjean had managed to get the same brand they’d been served the night before at the group home.

 

The man in question appeared engrossed in his task of portioning the orange noodles into five bowls. Gav and Azelma, who were probably trying to figure out which bowl had the most, watched him closely.

 

Cosette headed to one of the cabinets and started pulling out cups for all of them.

 

“Do you want milk, juice, tea…?” she asked the room in general as she began to carry the cups to the table in the adjoining room.

 

“Juice, please,” Azelma called back. Gav seconded the motion.

 

Cosette came back into the kitchen to get the juice, lingering in the fridge. “And you, Papa? Eponine?”

 

“Water’s good for me,” Mr. Valjean said.

 

At Cosette’s questioning glance, Eponine shook her head. “Not thirsty.”

 

“You sure?” Cosette looked befuddled. “I can make tea or coffee if you like.”

 

Eponine gave her a ‘what-is-wrong-with-you-look’, the one she’d perfected on her little siblings. “No, thanks,” she said slowly. A bit more slowly than people usually talked to others who they judged to have their full mental capabilities. Not quite slowly enough to be blatantly rude.

 

Cosette flushed, though. Score one for Eponine. Azelma gave her a disapproving look behind Cosette’s back, presumably for being rude on their first day. Eponine’s little sister never did see the use of antagonizing people who might treat them badly. Gav understood, though. He got the need to test, to prod, to see how far you could go before consequences became serious.

 

She glanced at Mr. Valjean, who had to have heard. He gazed coolly back at her and lifted an eyebrow, before turning away to get something from the freezer. So it would take more than that to get a rise out of him.

 

The thing he was getting from the freezer, apparently, was a pack of frozen peas. He raised them so they all could see and asked, “Anyone want peas in their mac and cheese?”

 

“Yes, please!” Gav snickered. At ten years old, he still occasionally got a kick out of rhyming. Azelma elbowed him out of sheer force of habit, it looked like, and nodded to Mr. Valjean. Eponine eyed the packet and the bowls. If anything, the frozen vegetables might at least help the stomach cramps she often got after eating mac and cheese.

 

“Sure,” she said, watching him pour the frozen clumps over each bowl. Valjean handed a bowl to Azelma and Gav each and ushered them towards the table Cosette had set. Eponine shrunk back in the doorway to let them pass before heading to the counter to get her own bowl. If she lingered in the kitchen long enough, she might be able to scrap some into the trash with no one noticing.

 

But then again, that would defeat her chance of seeing if food waste meant something to their new house-mates. Her parents had been firm believers in cleaning your plate and the plate next to you, which had led to more upset stomachs than Eponine really wanted to remember right now. She’d see if Valjean yelled as loudly over leftovers as her mother used to.

 

Cosette darted in front of her at the last second to hand her a bowl, with completely unnecessary courtesy.

 

“Do you want extra peas?” the girl asked out of the blue. Eponine blinked at her.

 

“…Sure?” She couldn’t see the harm in replying. Cosette was the least threatening figure in the house so far. If anything, she reminded Eponine of a teen Barbie she’d gotten from a garage sale once—all perfect hair and cute clothes with no sharp edges.

 

She and Azelma had hacked the Barbie’s hair off and used it as a voodoo doll on a rainy Sunday, but that was utterly beside the point.

 

She watched Cosette pour frozen peas into the two remaining bowls, then pour a little into her hand and pop it into her mouth like popcorn. The girl held the bag out to her invitingly but she shook her head. No need to encourage that weirdness. Eponine picked up one of the bowls and began to head to the table.

 

“Do you hate me?” Cosette asked quietly. Eponine paused in her tracks. Was she for real?

 

Putting steel into her voice, Eponine said, “Trust me, if I hated you, you’d know it.” There. Let her go crying off to Daddy about how the mean foster girl threatened—

 

“Oh, good!” came the chirped reply, derailing Eponine’s train of thought. Cosette came up to her elbow and smiled broadly. “I was really worried.”

 

Eponine’s mind was, for once, a complete blank. What. The. Hell. Was the girl completely deaf to tone?

 

“Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold!” Cosette coaxed, leading the way into the dining room.

 

Eponine followed, regrouping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you like Eponine's utter confusion with Cosette-- things can only grow stranger from here!


	3. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thenardier kids and the Fauchelevents have lunch and talk rules, in that order.

Valjean figured they'd have a problem when he asked the foster kids if they minded saying grace over the meal and Gavroche snorted. Azelma elbowed him in the side, in the sisterly way that seemed to mean, "shut up if you know what's good for you," but Eponine leaned forward, planting her elbows on the tablecloth like territorial flags.

 

"We're not really into the Jesus freak life," she said baldly. Azelma gaped at her from across the table.

 

"I'm sorry for my sister, we think she was raised in a barn," the younger girl apologized. "We don't mind, go ahead."

 

Cosette laughed, looking at Azelma like an invitation to join in on the joke. The thirteen-year-old merely looked confused.

 

"It's just, if you really were born in a barn," she redirected her smile towards Eponine, "then you'd have more in common with Jesus than anyone at this table."

 

Valjean smiled at this deft re-direction of the conversation. "Should I take that as a go-ahead?" he asked lightly.

 

Eponine glanced between him and Cosette with a furrowed scowl, then shrugged exaggeratedly. "Whatever floats your fuckin' boat," she muttered. Valljean felt his jaw tighten but relaxed with a force of will. This was their first meal together. He would not let his frustration get the best of him. Bending his head over his bowl, he clasped his hands and murmured a brief thanks for the meal, Cosette echoing on her side of the table.

 

"That reminds me," he added, spoon hovering over the edge of his bowl "that we have to go over the house rules after lunch. For now, I'll just say that swearing is not allowed at the table."

 

Gav leaned forward at that, eyes bright. "Just at the table?" he asked, grinning.

 

"I won't make you wash your mouths out with soap if you let slip a bad word, if that's what you're asking." 

 

"Fuckin' likely," Eponine snorted. 

 

Ignoring this, Valjean leveled a frank glance at the boy. "But I'd appreciate if you'd refrain from swearing at the table or in your classes."

 

Gav shrugged and nodded, digging into his macaroni. After a second he started laughing, full-out giggle-snorts that threatened to spray half-chewed noodles all over the tablecloth.

 

Azalea dug her elbow in his side. "Chew, swallow, breathe," she muttered, punctuating each new word with a surreptitious hit. Gav coughed into his hand and was finally able to breathe normally.

 

"Are you okay?" Cosette asked. "You were kinda... choking?"

 

Gav grinned at her from across the table. "It's macaroni and _peas_." 

 

Eponine groaned and kicked him under the table. She missed by a fraction and jarred the tabIe accidentally. Mr. Valjean looked unsettled.

 

"Oh... That's...funny?" Cosette tried.

 

"Don't encourage him, he'll laugh himself unconscious," Eponine warned. 

Valjean and Cosette immediately turned to Gavroche like they were concerned he might choke and fall over. Eponine swore that if anyone started trying the Heimlich maneuver, she'd be the one pissing her pants laughing. Azelma just rolled her eyes and pulled back her arm to elbow Gavroche _hard_ in the side. He slipped off his chair, scrabbling back on like a squirrel.

 

"Ow!" Gav protested. He was still grinning, though.

 

Eponine nodded at Azelma, a sharp dip of acknowledgement like an experienced sergeant might give to a captain. 'You did good,' the nod said. Azelma shrugged back.

 

Valjean cleared his throat. "As it appears that you primarily communicate by haptics, I question the use of forbidding hitting at the table," he stated drily.

 

"Haptics means touch," Cosette clarified helpfully. Eponine and Azelma stiffened in their chairs.

 

"No touching us," Eponine croaked. The words seemed to claw their way out of her throat. "No matter what we do, you're not allowed to touch us. Or we'll call the foster system and get you put in jail." She pushed back her chair, half-rising from her seat in readiness.

 

"...Okay, we'll add that to the rules," Valjean said calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on his bowl.

 

"I'm sorry for grabbing your arm earlier," Cosette added. "I should have asked first."

 

Eponine glanced between the two, frown settling between her brows. In slow movements, she sank back into her chair, keeping her hands clenched in her lap. Azelma, too, seemed disinclined to eat. Gavroche looked between the two and smirked.

 

"Not gonna eat your Mac and peas? Can I peas have yours then?" He asked, mouth half-full. Valjean noted that the boy had nearly finished his bowl and showed no signs of stopping. Azelma pulled her bowl away from her brother and wrapped an arm around it, but Eponine shrugged and pushed her serving across the table. She had barely finished eating the top layer of frozen vegetables. Valjean opened his mouth to point this out--

 

"Hey Gav," Cosette interjected. "Do you know the pea green soup joke?"

 

The boy looked at her sidelong, smirk sliding away. "No?"

 

"Okay, well, no matter what I ask you, you have to respond 'pea green soup.' Ready?"

 

Gav shrugged. "Sure."

 

"Not sure, 'pea green soup,'" she corrected chirpily. Eponine rolled her eyes.

 

Gav half-smiled. "Pea green soup?"

 

Cosette propped her chin on her hand. "What did you have for breakfast?"

 

"Pea green soup?"

 

"Ew," Azelma muttered.

 

"What did you have for lunch?"

 

"Pea green soup." Gav leaned forward, starting to mirror Cosette. His spoon dangled from his fingers, dripping a few noodles on the white, embroidered tablecloth. 

 

"Clean that up," Eponine ordered, snagging a napkin from the center of the table and waving it in his face.

 

"Pea green soup!" He shot back, but accepted the napkin. Valjean hid a wince as the boy started scrubbing at the cloth with the napkin, working the small yellow stain deeper into the fabric. He should have changed the tablecloths to the less expensive vinyl ones before the kids arrived.

 

"It's fine," he said dismissively. "I can wash it later." At his tone, all three of the new arrivals leaned back in their chairs, not meeting his eyes. Maybe they’d caught the frustration in his voice.

 

"...What was the joke?" Azelma asked quietly. It was the closest he'd heard any of the Thenardier kids come to sounding timid.

 

"Oh! Ummm..." Cosette turned back to Gav with a determined smile. "What did you have for lunch?"

 

"...pea green soup?" he answered softly.

 

"What did you have for dinner?"

 

"Pea green soup?" Gav had recovered enough to pull a face after saying this.

 

"What did you do after dinner?" Cosette asked.

 

"Pea green..." Gav grinned suddenly, displaying the gap between his front teeth. "I PEED green soup!" he crowed.

 

"Ugh, great," Azelma complained. "Loving _that_ mental image."

 

Valjean chuckled, as much at her disgusted expression as at Cosette's joke. "Guess I know what not to make for dinner," he quipped. 

 

Cosette and Gav grinned back at him, nearly synchronized in their amusement. From the corner of his eye, Valjean saw Eponine frown harder and shift forward in her chair. Moments later, Gavroche winced and scowled, turning back to his plates.

 

For the rest of the meal, he let Cosette take the reins in keeping conversation light and cheerful, mostly by talking Disney movies with Azelma and Gavroche. He sat in watchful silence, observing how the oldest of their new foster guests kept her attention split between him and Cosette as if unsure which was the bigger threat. He didn't miss how her stomach rumbled loudly partway through their lunch, either.

 

As Azelma, slowest to finish even with Gavroche on his second bowl, pushed her chair back from the table to slump backwards, Valjean broke his silence.

 

"Before you go upstairs to unpack, I'd like to establish a few more base rules for behavior at the house and at school." His voice seemed to echo through the room, washing over the stiff shoulders and tense eyes of the Thenardier siblings. "I expect all of you to be present at school, in your classes and well-prepared as much as possible. This means getting reading and homework done before going out at night." He watched their faces carefully. Although Eponine clenched her jaw and looked away, it was Azelma who blatantly rolled her eyes. "Short of an emergency, serious sickness or natural disaster, there is no reason to miss out on your education."

 

"Define serious sickness." Gavroche peered over his bowls, spoon raised like a newscaster's microphone.

 

"Fever, migraine, vomiting, fainting," Cosette listed. "But if you don't feel good, you can come back early sometimes."

 

Gavroche hunched over with what Valjean could only describe as a scheming face. Valjean wondered if he should guard the thermometers in the house to keep them safe from tampering.

 

"Other rules?" Eponine asked, ignoring her brother's vaguely disturbing smirk.

 

"Just basic ones," Valjean replied. "Make sure I know where you are if you go out after school. Be back in time for dinner. If you go to parties, no drinking or drugs and be back by nine. You can bring friends over but I prefer if you do so while either I or Cosette is home."

 

Azelma sat forward. "We can go to PARTIES?" she squeaked. 

 

"As long as you let me know where you are," Valjean confirmed. "We'll be getting cellphones tomorrow and I expect each of you to call if you go anywhere but school or home."

 

Gavroche and Azelma's faces split in matching grins. Valjean had the sneaking suspicion that they'd never been given phones of their own.

 

"I have my own phone," Eponine said, confirming his guess. She went on, "What's the policy on part-time jobs?"

 

Valjean raised an eyebrow. "You’re under the legal age limit.”

 

She stared back at him. He sighed. “Let's give it two weeks for you to settle in before you go looking for work. If you need money I'm sure we can figure something out with Mr. Muriel or doing chores around the house."

 

Eponine's mouth tightened and she looked away. He waited for further protests, but she seemed disinclined to talk.

 

“Is that it, then?” Gavroche asked. Valjean nodded.

 

“For now. I will also expect you to wash your dishes after meals,” he added, with a glance to their tableware. Azelma, Gavroche and Cosette obediently picked up their plates and filed into the kitchen. Eponine glanced at him and walked after them, hands empty.

 

He sighed and carried his own dishes into the kitchen, setting them by the counter as he waited for the sink to be free. Cosette, busy demonstrating where the dish soap was kept and how their dishwasher worked, nevertheless sent him a quick grin. 

 

“I should have brought this up earlier, but I’ll be in a council meeting tonight until late. Cosette, I know I can trust you to order pizza and show our guests the selection of movies?” At his words, Cosette smiled, if possible, even more brightly.

 

“Oh, can we have ice cream after dinner, too?” she asked. Valjean nodded indulgently. Cosette bounced over to him and smacked a kiss on his cheek.

 

The Thenardier’s watched this display of affection with thinly-veiled disgust, clustering somewhat closer together. Valjean nodded to them all and took his leave, taking care to leave them with ample personal space as he collected his dishes and deposited them in the washer. He would have assured them they were safe from cheek-kisses, at least from him, but it seemed like an announcement that might do more harm than good. Better to let their new guests learn to trust him and Cosette at their own pace, however slow that might be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to sympathize with Valjean in his frustration-- get the story moving! More will pass after Cosette and the siblings have their dinner together, and Eponine will have a lot to say about the school they'll be joining. trans!Enjolras and Eponine interactions to follow.


End file.
